Things to Think About
by Tendency
Summary: Jounouchi's insomnia induced musings on life, sleeping in other people's beds, and lots of little things. [Shounen ai, SetoxJou, Joukai, one shot.]


**Summary:** Jounouchi's insomnia induced musings on life, sleeping in other people's beds, and lots of little things.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairings:** Seto/Jounouchi.  
**Type:** One shot.  
**Disclaimer:** You all know the jazz.  
**Suggested Listening:** _Stella by Moor_, Yoko Kanno; _My Iron Lung_, Radiohead; _Screenwriter's Blues_, Soul Coughing; _Bran-new Lovesong_, The Pillows; _Mina Soko Ni Nemure_, Blue Sub No. 6; _Broken Promise_, Toonami; _Deep_, Toonami; _True Dreams of Wichita_, Soul Coughing; _Sleepless_, Soul Coughing.

**Notes:** Hey, venturing into the realm of Jou!fic now. Wish me luck! And just a warning ahead of time . . . this is a three AM piece. Read with caution.

Some of you might also notice that I'm using different vocabulary in this than I would normally use. Blame it all on Jounouchi. I just interpret what the character feeds to me (and I interpret 'too lazy to construct a proper sentence half the time' from him). ;) Oh, and beware liberal use of the word fuck.

Well, not _liberal_ use, but it appears more than once. Maybe I've just read too many fics where Jounouchi swears like a Cockney sailor, but in this . . . well, it just seemed to fit. (Do I have to rate this R for the language, or I am I safe in PG-13 land? I mean, there isn't really anything else questionable in here, aside from some hints at stuff that already happened.)

Sorry if this theme has already been done (because it's not like there aren't thirty SQUILLION other fics out there to sort through). I did try.

o-o-

**Things to Think About  
**- Tenika

o-o-

The fan whirred distantly by the bed in the muggy, darkened AM atmosphere, dredging up a thick wave of air to throw over the two figures curled up on the mattress, dragging coolish fingers across the bare arms and shoulders that peeked out over the top of the mess of covers.

Listening to the fan was kind of nice, Jounouchi had decided sometime toward the end of the summer, when the days had started to get miserably hot and humid in one last burst before autumn. Or, more importantly, when he had finally started making this trip to . . . uh . . . _spend the night_ . . . a regular one, when he could. (He made time when he couldn't.)

The fan was also kind of nice to listen to when you couldn't sleep. It was a foreign sort of sound-- or at least, it was to him, considering that he hadn't exactly ever had the funds for anything like it before, and so hadn't had the chance to get used to the sound of constant, rushing air in the dead of night. Honking car horns and screeching tires, maybe, but nothing that made him feel _comfortable_. (That was what happened when you slept in someone else's bed-- you encountered new things. He'd always said he'd go on big adventures someday, right?)

Seto's head shifted on his shoulder, a hot burst of breath puffing out to tickle over his neck, and Jounouchi remembered where he was. He grinned (a muted, tired version of his usual goofy grin, which he directed down at the other boy's tousled hair), and stifled a snicker expertly behind his teeth.

Seto would be so pissed if he ever knew how cute he looked when he was asleep (not cute like _aw, little kid_ cute, but cute like _damn, the guy who gets to sleep with you is sure one lucky son of a bitch_ cute. And that lucky son a bitch would be none other than _himself_, Jounouchi thought smugly, pumping one mental fist in triumph). And Katsuya would _not_ be the one to tell him about it; that would risk his chances of ever seeing him asleep again.

The grin faded. Jounouchi turned his face back toward the wall across the room, absently shifting his leg (wrapped around one of Seto's, currently, though he couldn't tell which one) and pressing his fingertips into the older Kaiba's back, counting vertebra gently with his index finger; Kaiba's spine was deep-set, which made them a bit of a challenge to find.

He hated insomnia. On most nights he went out like a light (or like some large, tranquilized animal, but it was too early to be coming up with any really creative similes) without even having to try. Easy, guaranteed sleep. And then, sometimes . . . well, _then_ getting to sleep felt sort of like trying to get Seto to say _yes_ to something he didn't want to even think about. (In other words, not only no, but _hell_ no.)

Generally when the insomnia decided to kick in, it meant his brain had finally gone off standby, and belatedly decided to inform him of the fact that he had something grand and universal to ponder. The only problem was, there were a _lot_ of things grand and universal that he could think of to ponder, and most of them didn't seem to apply very well to his current situation. The few things that _did_ were a little too big to handle at whatever unholy hour it actually was.

So, Jounouchi carried out his favorite plan of attack instead: that being, ignore the overwhelming issue and start small. Work up from there.

There were a lot of small things to think about, potentially, on a sleepless, muggy end-of-summer's night while lying tied up in the arms of your pseudo-boyfriend slash fuck buddy. Not exactly romantic things (it wasn't a very romantic situation, Jounouchi thought with a snort), but _things_ nonetheless.

Things like . . . well, Jounouchi just had to come up with some of them. He made a face grumpily, shifting back into the mattress (_damn_, Seto had a comfortable bed) and trying to make his brain work at something other than stoopid early-morning pace. Things like . . .

Well, like the fact that after two months of ending up in this room nearly every single night--and some days, too--Jounouchi knew exactly which side Seto usually slept on. Which was his _left_. And when he was frustrated, he slept on his right side, and on his back when he was uneasy.

(Jounouchi figured--somewhere in the part of his brain that was up to figurative reasoning--that this was either absolute proof that, somewhere inside Seto, there was actually a real person, who messed up and had bad days and the whole nine yards, or that he really _was_ some kind of freakish killer megalomaniac robot, and Jounouchi just hadn't figured it out yet. Which was unlikely, considering that he'd been sleeping with the guy for a while. He hoped he'd know when he was and wasn't having sex with a robot. And now that he thought that over again . . . _ew_. Just . . . wow. Ew. Moving on.)

Maybe it was too nice of him, but Jounouchi always shifted accordingly, given the day and mode of sleep Seto had consciously or unconsciously decided on. He was just a good guy like that. And nevermind the overwhelming feeling that even his own conscience was laughing at him, along with the rest of the intelligent universe.

Seto also liked to sleep with his head on Katsuya's shoulder. People might have snickered at the idea of Kaiba being capable of something so . . . well, so _vulnerable_, but to Katsuya, it made perfect sense; people with egos as huge as Seto's--not just the narcissistic 'kiss my boots' ego, but the kind that you had to deflate to fit through smallish doorways--always seemed the kind who, behind the scenes, when they weren't acting like bastards, needed that extra bit of _lurve_ and attention. So to speak. (Was lurve a word?)

And Seto had always been just a little bit loopy and insecure, so Katsuya didn't really mind offering up his arm for pillow duty, so long as it staved off any particularly nasty meltdowns. Again, he was just a nice guy like that. (And all of that aside, Katsuya himself was much too proud to ever reverse roles with Seto, and do something he considered as _girly_ as sleeping with his head resting on some guy's shoulder. It was just . . . _way_ too stereotypical. Truth be told, he probably had the bigger ego of the two of them. Not that he had ever been honest.)

Jounouchi knew other things, too, like that Seto liked to hear him talk. The blue-eyed duelist hated talking back, but for some reason, he seemed to honestly enjoy just _listening_ to Jounouchi's voice. He'd never said it in as many words (actually, he was generally heard telling Jounouchi to shut up, couldn't he see that he was trying to concentrate?), or given any real reason for Jounouchi to think so . . . but, really, it just seemed obvious that he was pleased when Katsuya waxed quietly about nothing. Jounouchi did his best to oblige him on that front, too, though he was somewhat more abusive with his words than he was with anything else. Oh well. Seto wasn't exactly a saint, either.

He knew that there was a sensitive spot on Seto's neck, just between where his shoulder met his throat on his left side, that--when teased properly--could have the stoic pre-adult melting in seconds. It was usually all the control Jounouchi ever had over him, but he still felt proud of finding it.

He knew that Seto hated foreplay (even though he often liked tormenting Katsuya when he could. The bastard). He knew that the oldest Kaiba honestly loved his little brother, even if he constantly failed to realize it. He knew that he really enjoyed running his company, and not just lording it over people.

And he hoped that (just maybe) he also ranked somewhere up there with those random things that Seto chose to give a damn over. Because at this point, it would more than suck if he didn't, it would be a goddamn _nightmare_.

So . . . well, hell. Maybe they _were_ kind of romantic musings after all. Jounouchi made a face in the dark, huffing out a breath childishly. So much for being manly and not thinking about stupid things like love or who slept where at any given time. Why the hell couldn't he sleep, anyway, if he just going to run circles in his brain with stuff like this?

Seto sighed again against his neck and shifted a little closer, and Jounouchi forgot what he had been frowning about.

Carefully turning entirely onto his back, Jounouchi let Seto get used to the change and settle his head comfortably on his shoulder--sleeping on his left side tonight--before turning his eyes back around the room.

The walls and ceiling loomed rather ominously in the dark past the bed, grey and black lines in the distance. Jounouchi paled a little at the sight. Why did Seto need such a damn big room, anyway?

. . . oh, right. He owned the fucking world. And you couldn't own the fucking world unless you slept in a fucking big room, it was in the Evil Owners of the Fucking World initiation handbook. Jounouchi shuddered and looked elsewhere.

Out of the corner of his left eye, ghost-like, the white drapes hanging from either side of the window set in the far wall were drifting back and forth, disturbed by the breeze from the fan. Curling his legs further around Seto's (he'd never get enough of that feeling, bare skin against bare skin, and being able to relax without a thought while thoroughly cramped up against someone else, without caring whose arm was whose, and never wanting to move away, because you felt too heavy to even think of getting up), he focused on those curtains for a while instead, and thought of nothing.

That lasted until, inevitably, he got bored, and started sighing. After another minute or so of that, he shook his head briskly to clear it, and started pondering like a moron all over again.

Why was he even here, anyway? Man, how long had it even been now? More than two months, he was pretty sure. So why did he keep doing this-- why hadn't _they_ stopped after a couple of nights, or a couple of weeks, or anything _less_? Why let it drag on?

It didn't make a whole lot of sense. Everything in their personalities seemed to be text book example after text book example of perfect opposition, and given the way they still fought horribly--despite sleeping with one another for months--even the most optimistic person would have had to eventually give up and admit that they'd probably self-destruct within a week. And Jounouchi wasn't even an optimist.

But there was just something _there_ that nothing else had really counted on, and couldn't really explain. Both Seto and Katsuya had their own theories on the matter. Katsuya liked to joke and say that they'd managed to stick together because they just so in _love_, and true love conquered all, the movies said so, yada yada . . . while more privately thinking that it probably something closer to _him_ finally realizing that Seto was a little more than he had first imagined (_heartless asshole_, he reminded himself cheerfully), and coming to find that he really _didn't_ hate him. And that he didn't want it all to end in some explosion of an argument, because that would seem . . . well, kind of stupid and pointless, after so much work to get to where they were now.

Seto just said it was because they were both more stubborn than was healthy, and usually left it at that. Katsuya would have liked to believe that they were both right, but in truth, Seto probably had it pinned closer than he did. The bastard.

He really was a bastard sometimes, Jounouchi groused inwardly; you would have thought that the guy would be a little mellower after the last few months (_how_ many times had he gotten laid?), but _no_, he had to just cling to the old habits.

Like fighting with Jounouchi. _All the time_. He bothered Katsuya over stupid, _stupid_ things; sometimes, it seemed, just because he wanted to have an argument. Jounouchi had a hard time fathoming the point of it all, but he was nothing if he wasn't up for a fight when it was brought to him. For his part, Seto did his share of delivering. And he could be pretty mean, sometimes.

(For example: he had once threatened to throw away one of Jounouchi's science papers (which he had been working on for nearly a week) when he had found it left on his desk during one of their arguments, saying that even if Katsuya turned it in, he'd fail anyway, simply because he had wanted to make him feel bad. The act itself hadn't been that unforgivable, but the _thought_ behind it (that even an entire week of his work was totally worthless) was a little bit harsher, and sort of a step backwards in the grand scheme of things. Jounouchi had considered eating one of Seto's papers for payback after that--just to weird the hell out of him--, but had realized that not only would it taste _awful_ and be hard to get through (Seto wrote long papers), but the jokes he'd have to suffer through afterwards just wouldn't be worth it. So he hadn't ended up doing anything, and Seto had ultimately given back the paper.)

Seto shifted and sighed for the third time against Jounouchi, and--grudgingly--the blonde ran his free hand over Seto's shoulder and down his side, and tried not to be so irritated. After all, Seto hadn't been that nasty for a while now, and sure, he was a bastard . . . but he was a _hot_ bastard. And Katsuya got to have sex with him. A lot. (Heh)

Jounouchi was leaning down to kiss the other teenager and wake him up (just to see the pissed off look on his face) when he caught the glow of the digital alarm clock on the table beside Seto's half of the bed out of the corner of his eye, and absently looked up at it. Three twenty-two AM.

Wait, _three twenty-two AM_? Well, _shit_-- had it really gotten that late?

Jounouchi frowned, tightening his fingers on Seto's waist. Unless he was mistaken and had gone temporarily insane (he craned his head over Seto again and checked . . . nope, still three twenty-two. Damnit), it was time for him to sneak away.

They had established a routine right from the beginning, months ago, when they had first gotten past just snarling at one another (when Jounouchi had first started tumbling uncontrollably into Seto's house, and, more specifically, other places (like the bed), nearly every night), and that was part of it. They would meet, eventually start wanting to kill--but end up just molesting--one another, and then afterwards spend an hour or so of surprisingly unconfrontational time, where they either dozed, let their hands wander, or ended up lazing around with Jounouchi murmuring on about something that even he wasn't paying attention to. Then he would sneak off back home (usually at about three, when Seto had fallen asleep), and disappear till the next time, whenever that ended up being.

Seto really could be cruel sometimes, Jounouchi remembered with a wince, and not just mean. He had been reminded of that one morning, about a month earlier, when he had fallen asleep and stayed till nearly four, and Seto had happened to wake up.

_"What are you still doing here?"_ he had asked, in such a tone that Jounouchi hadn't even felt up to answering--just crawled immediately out of the bed and dressed as best he could in the dark, stumbling out with his shoes in his hands. He'd been depressed for the whole next day, though Seto had realized at some point exactly how he had sounded, and had made up for it as best he could the following night. Ever since then, he had made it a habit to be out on time.

Personally, Jounouchi hated having to leave, as though he was unwanted. That wasn't the way he did things. But he knew it would tip the balance towards something new and probably unwelcome were he to stay, and the whole thing already felt so fragile-- he didn't want to risk destroying it.

He knew another thing about Seto, too; the guy hated change. He hid it really well, but he had so many routines and habits, it was a wonder that he even functioned like a semi-normal, non-institutionalized human being. And Jounouchi didn't know whether the older Kaiba was ready to have everything change all over again. He had been freaky enough for the first few weeks, Katsuya almost didn't want to know what would happen this time.

Seto was still sleeping when he looked at the clock again, and then back at his face. Jounouchi hated him sometimes; he was cold and manipulative and downright unfeeling, and he could be as insensitive as all hell.

But at the same time . . . over the last few months, Jounouchi had seen a side of Seto that he had never even imagined before-- and damn how girly that sounded, but it was true. Sometimes, Seto smiled (smirked, smiled, whatever), and walked over and kissed him for no real reason at all-- though he generally chased it with a frown, as though he was disappointed in himself for being so nice, and stalked away. Sometimes he could be gentle, when it really counted. He'd even tried on occasion to cheer Katsuya up (in his own twisted Seto-ish way) when he'd gone to the proverbial bar in his mind.

So maybe the whole thing was more romantic than he wanted to believe. And maybe he wasn't giving Seto enough credit. Maybe he was the one waiting for Jounouchi to be ready, and not the other way around.

_Ah, fuck it_, Jounouchi thought, and rearranged himself around Seto comfortably. He'd take the consequences as they came. He was getting kind of bored with the whole pseudo-boyfriend thing anyway. If Seto couldn't handle it, then tough.

Right now, he was just going to enjoy a full night of sleep.

**Owari**

o-o-

Cookies if you found the dog joke. ;)


End file.
